Ghosts
by memetrash111
Summary: Why did Thalia always fall for the bad boys? Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Rick Riordan.


Ghosts

Based loosely on the song _Ghosts_ by Halsey.

 _"_ _I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies."_

 _Why did she always fall for the bad boys?_

Thalia knew their type: drugs, gangs, parties and an uncanny ability to screw girls over. But it always had to be a bad boy for Thalia.

—

As soon as Luke smirked at her, his dangerously blue eyes darkening, Thalia knew she was in trouble. She had told herself not to do this again. She knew where it went and how it inevitably led to her being passed out drunk at three a.m., but something about those stormy, knowing eyes and that long, pale scar across his face drew her in like a moth to a flame. _It'll be fun_ , she told herself. _You know better than to fall for him_. But even she knew that was a lie.

—

Luke had a pale arm slung around her waist and his lips were on her neck. The bright lights of the bar made him look less menacing and with the many alcoholic drinks she had consumed, Thalia could almost convince herself it was going to be okay. It wouldn't end like the times before.

She tipped her head back and drowned in the feeling of Luke's hands inching up her tight shirt and the pleasure of being given this attention. Her vision was fuzzy; partly because of the alcohol, partly because Luke's lips were working miracles and it just felt so damn _good_.

The bartender murmured something about getting a room and Luke proceeded to drag her through the mass of sweaty bodies on the dance floor. The music pounded through her entire body, adding to her intoxication. She felt free and incredible, especially when Luke finally found a room and pressed her roughly against a wall, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. This _was_ fun.

—

The wind stung her face and Thalia pulled her leather jacket a little tighter around her body. Luke sat a little ways away, his face set in a scowl. He brought a cigarette to his lips and continued his story. He was telling her how he got his scar: a gang fight four years ago. He had killed the one who gave it to him. Thalia tried to pretend the chill that ran through her was only because of the bitter wind and the cold.

—

Luke was yelling and waving a wickedly sharp knife around and Thalia wasn't sure what to do. He looked like an angel: beautiful, dangerous and cruel and she was afraid. Why did she get herself into this mess?

Luke stumbled, clearly drunk, and threw her phone at the wall. It shattered, pieces falling to the floor like snow. She stared at him in shock and horror. He was still yelling, his words slurring together and his scar standing out, menacing and pale, like a warning.

He swung the knife at her and she flinched back. The weapon suddenly dropped as Luke fell to the ground, the alcohol finally getting the better of him.

Thalia sunk to the ground next to the remains of her phone. She looked at Luke's strong body sprawled on her living room floor and let the first tears come.

—

Luke smiled at her, a charming, dangerous, almost loving smile that made her heart clench. He kissed her and told her he was going to meet some friends. _I'll be back soon_ , he said. Thalia resisted the urge to reply with, _Will you? Will you really be back soon?_ Sometimes she thought it would be better if never came back.

—

Luke's breathing next to her was even and his arm draped across her chest was warm and comforting. She was thrown back to a few minutes ago when his skin was against hers, his lips tracing her body making her moan and squirm with pleasure. His body had been arched beautifully into hers and he had been repeating her name, lust clear in his deep voice. It was moments like those when Thalia was content, reassured Luke wasn't going to leave her.

She closed her eyes and listened to Luke's steady breathing. Yes, these were amazing moments. She forgot about all the pain in her life and let herself revel in the presence of her angel.

—

Luke never came back.

One day, he simply left and that was that. As if he did not stomp on the hearts of many people, as if they were not important enough to even say goodbye to.

She expected him to leave. Still, a hopeful, naive piece of her heart had given itself up to this dangerous, beautiful boy and it hoped and prayed he would never leave her.

Knowing didn't stop the pain. And exactly like she predicted, she ended up passed out drunk at three a.m. wondering if the ache in her heart would ever go away.

Why did she always fall for the bad boys?


End file.
